


The Hunter or the Hunted? Part 3

by rubyluvsupernatural



Series: The Hunter or the Hunted [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 6 months later, Anger, Cured Dean, F/M, Mark of Cain, POV Dean Winchester, POV Female Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Sub Dean, Sweet Dean, Unsafe Sex, Violence, Woman on Top, black outs, post Deanmon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 13:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3852487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyluvsupernatural/pseuds/rubyluvsupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>6 months after capturing dean and sam curing him, dean finds the reader undercover at a strip club. </p><p>reader has some issues with dean and finds an interesting way to resolve them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunter or the Hunted? Part 3

You slam the trunk of your Camaro, shoving your gun into its holster. You slide your angel blade into the sheath in the arm of your jacket. You look up at the flickering neon sign **cherry pie club** and roll your eyes. 

You wrinkle your nose when you're assaulted by the smell of smoke, stale liquor and vanilla as you enter the club. Your eyes slowly adjust to the dim lighting, and scan the bar. There is a main stage in the back of the room with stools in front.

'Perverts row,' you think. 

A girl is dancing on the stage to "candy girl", her lithe body twirling around the pole. The men in perverts row cheer as she back flips off the pole and lands in the splits. 

'Bendy,' you muse, raising an eyebrow. 

"Hey, Sweetie," a woman's voice says from behind you. "Somethin' I can help you with?" 

You turn around and plaster a smile on your face, hoping to look charming. 

"I, uh, was hoping you were hiring," you lie. 

The older woman raises a drawn-on eyebrow at you. "Dancer or waitress?" 

"um, serving actually," the last thing you need is to be stripping on a hunt. 

The woman scans your body, nodding slowly. "We happen to have an opening, one of the girls didn't show up for the past couple o' nights." 

"Weird," you say, pursing your lips. "No one's heard from her?" 

"Nature of the gig, Sweetie," the older woman holds out her hand. "Susan." 

You take her offered hand in yours to shake it. "Stevie." 

*****************  
You squirm in the tight, red mini dress Susan had given you. You really had not thought this whole plan through, you just knew you had to be at the club. Strippers and waitresses were going missing fast, something was up. Something not natural. 

The refrain from Warrants "Cherry Pie" started and Susan makes sure all the girls are lined up. It's the Friday night show, and apparently it's the waitresses job to open for the dancers. The head waitress had gone through the routine with you quickly. You had half heartedly listened as she went through the dance moves, more intent on scanning the back room of the bar. 

"You got it?" she had asked impatiently. 

"Yeah, wiggle this way, rotate that way," you said wryly. "Got it." 

"You'll do great," a cheery blond named Mercedes says to you with a broad smile. "Just shake your ass and the customer won't notice if you mess up." 

***She's my cherry pie***  
***Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise***  
***Tastes so good makes a grown man cry***  
***Sweet Cherry Pie**

You walk through the club, trying to not trip over your stilettos while precariously balancing a tray with a bottle of beer on it. You sway your hips as you make your way to your mark. 

***Swingin' on the front porch***  
***Swingin' on the lawn***  
***Swingin' where we want***  
***'Cause there ain't nobody home***

You place your tray on the small table in front of you. You glide your hand over the smooth surface, turning on the balls of your feet so your back is to the customer.

***Swingin' to the left ***  
***And swingin' to the right ***  
***If I think about baseball***  
***I'll swing all night yea***

Following the cues from the song, you swivel your hips to the left then seductively roll them to the right. With a smooth motion you grab the beer off the tray and turn your body so you're facing the man you're serving.  With a flick of your head your hair gets tossed over your shoulder as you offer the beverage forward. 

***Swingin' in the living room***   
***Swingin' in the kitchen ***  
***Most folks don't 'cause ***  
***They're too busy bitchin' ***

Your eyes focus on the tall man in front of you, your Y/E/C eyes locking with his emerald ones. Your breath hitches in your throat and you stumble slightly from surprise. You clumsily fall forward, spilling the drink all over his suit. 

The man cocks his eyebrow with a small smirk on his face. "Y/N," he breathes, reaching out to steady you. 

You jerk back, out of his reach. "Stevie," you correct, trying to not blow your cover. You move back into character and smile widely at him. "I'm so sorry........Winchester." you lower your voice as you hiss his name. 

****************  
Fuck. you grab a fistful of napkins from the bartender and turn to go back to the hunter's table. 

Sadie, the head waitress, grabs your arm. "Smooth move," she sneers, quickly moving past you towards a table full of horny frat boys. 

You close your eyes, restraining yourself from slugging the smug bitch. She's not worth it, you need to finish this hunt. 

"Just go pat him dry," Mercedes tells you. "It's happened to all of us. Really, I wouldn't mind wiping him down." she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at you. 

You smirk at her. If only she knew. If it was any OTHER attractive man you would feel the same way. Just not Dean. You had managed to steer clear of either of the Winchesters for six months. It had been six months of hunting and training. Six months of trying to heal from something you never thought you'd have to heal from. Six months of waking up from the nightmares of seeing those green eyes going black, and then complete darkness. 

'Get a grip, Stevie,' you tell yourself. 'Just do your job.'

You switch on your most brilliant smile and sway your hips as you saunter towards Dean. He was sitting at the table, trying to wipe some of the beer off of his monkey suit with his hands. 

"I'm so sorry about that," you purr as you sidle up next to the sandy haired hunter. "First night." 

"Y/N," Dean starts. 

"Stevie," you clip your cover name out quickly. "The name's Stevie." 

"Stevie, right," he drawls out, moving back as you move forward to dab his jacket with a napkin. "It's fine, I'll do it," he tries to grab the napkin from you. 

"It's my pleasure," you grit out between clenched teeth. "Just let me do my *job*". You start moving the napkin a bit lower, hoping it will appear to the other people in the club that you're working on a big tip. 

Dean grabs your wrist. "Stop, Y/N, I can do it myself." He moves to grab the napkin with his other hand twisting your wrist gently. He blinks at the design there, his fingers move to stroke against it sending a shiver up your arm. "That's new."

You jerk your arm away. "Yeah, well I wasn't taking any chances." You spat your words out, absently rubbing your wrist with your left hand. "How'd you find me?" 

***************  
You slam open your room's door and stalk inside. "Bloody Winchesters," you seethe into the empty room. 

You go to your duffle and grab your bottle of whiskey. Uncapping it, you take a long swig while you kick off your heels. The amber liquid burns down your throat and settles into a warm glow starting at your core.

"Fucking Dean," you mumble, dropping the bottle on the bedside table before heading into the bathroom for a shower. 

Turning the hot water on full blast, the small bathroom fills with steam quickly. You wiggle out of the skin tight dress, hanging it on the hook behind the door.  
You step into the shower, letting the hot water ease your muscles. Your eyes close as you move under the hot spray, wetting your long Y/H/C hair. Moving your wash cloth over your shoulders and neck you moan, your fingers trying to work out some of the knots. 

Dean had assured you they hadn't been tracking you. They were just following a lead on a case and you happened to be there. Dean also tried to convince you to leave the room you are staying in. All the strippers and waitresses that had gone missing were staying in rooms attached to the club. 

_"This is MY hunt, Winchester," you had hissed._

_"Y.......Stevie, you're going off half cocked here. You're gonna get hurt," Dean had looked into your eyes until you broke his gaze. "You're using yourself as bait."_

_"I'm fine, Dean," you had replied. You had stopped talking and bit your lip. The only time you had ever used his first name was when you have slept together. "I'll do what needs to be done."_

**************  
Dean knew that sitting in the Impala watching you was kinda rapey, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. 

You had put on boy cut underwear and a large t shirt with a logo he couldn't quite make out. The curtains in your room were thin enough to see you, but not with a lot of detail. He could see you carrying a bottle with you, swigging it absentmindedly as you swayed to music. The strains of notes from "Dust in the Wind" carries out to the Impala. 

A dark figure appears behind you. 

"Son of a Bitch," Dean curses as he leaps out of the Impala. 

************  
You feel someone grab you from behind and you yell out. You swing around, propelling the bottle of whiskey towards your assailant. You feel the bottle connect and hear a grunt. 

The door crashes open behind you. "Y/N!" Dean's voice sounds panicked. "Son of a......" 

You don't take the time to acknowledge him, your focus is on your attacker. You strike out, but only feel air against your fist. 

"Y/N," you hear dean's voice again, it sounded farther away this time. 

Hands grab your shoulders. You spin trying to land a punch. 

"Y/N," Dean's voice was louder this time. 

Your gaze locks on him as you advance. You throw a right jab and he side steps you. Your jaw clenches as you throw a left hook. Dean blocks your hand effortlessly. 

You move closer and swing at his jaw, finally connecting. His head snaps back, a growl comes from the back of his throat. When he looks back at you his green eyes flicker with rage. Dean drops his hand to his side, clenching his fist. 

"Y/N," his voice is low and dangerous. 

You blink, snapping out of your haze. "Winchester? What are you doing here?" 

*************

You take a slow swallow of your second bottle of whiskey, silently cursing the demise of the first one. Crossing your ankles as you lean back against the head board, you raise an eyebrow at the Winchester in front of you. He was leaning against the back of the arm chair, eyebrows furrowed. 

You offer him the bottle and he moves forward to take it, bringing it to his lips - those distracting lips - and takes a long swallow. His tongue flicks across his mouth to get the drops he missed. 

"So, what?" you start slowly, taking back the bottle and swigging the warm liquid again. "You were Peeping Tomming me?" 

It was Dean's turn to cock his eyebrow. "I had a feeling...." he said, lazily leaning on the chair again, crossing his muscular arms in front of his chest. 

"Sure," you say drolly. You move off the bed, padding towards the hunter. Handing off the bottle you lean into his ear. "Like the show?" you purr. 

His teeth pull in his lower lip, his eyes moving to meet yours. "Not really." 

You smirk. "oh?" you query, raising your eyebrow. 

"How're you feeling, Y/N?" 

You narrow your eyes at him. grabbing the bottle back you take several long pulls. "Never better, Winchester," you say, wiping your mouth with your hand. "I'm stronger, faster, the best hunter I've ever been." 

"Right," he stands to his full height, his mossy eyes boring into Y/E/C ones. "Then explain what happened. How did you not see me?" His hand absently went to rub his clenching jaw. A light bruise was starting to emerge where your fist had connected. "You were in some sort of......"

You shake your head. "I don't know what you're talking about." You avert your eyes from dean's , not wanting him to see the fear in your eyes. 

His hand was on your chin, moving your face so you had to look at him. "Y/N, did it, did it start after....." he trailed off, not really willing to call it what it was. His voice hitched in the back of his throat. 

Your jaw clenches against his fingers. "After what, Dean?" you swipe his hand away. "After you fucked me? Slammed me into the wall? Left me naked to be found by your brother....by your angel?" your voice was hard, but barely above a whisper by the time you finished. 

Dean's hand fisted into his hair. He looked away. "I wasn't myself....." 

"Dean, dean, dean," you click your tongue behind your teeth. "You were who you always wanted to be. You got what you always wanted to have." 

He turns his eyes to your face, they were full of sadness, of regret. "I was a demon! the mark....." his voice strained, you could see his fist clenching, the mark took on a glow. 

"It's okay, Winchester. We all like it a little rough from time to time," you laughed cruelly and turned to walk away from him. 

His hand was on your shoulder, turning you back towards him. The hunters eyes were alight with fire and lust. "I can't. ...." he started. 

"Then don't" you breathed. 

His hand pulled you to him, crashing his lips into yours. Your tongues twined together, desperately seeking domination. You slowly gave in as he moves one hand to cradle your face, his other arm wrapping around your waist and holding you tight to him. Your hands move into his hair, pulling him closer, deepening your kiss. 

Dean's hand moved under your tshirt, grazing over your skin, making goose bumps rise. He trails his calloused fingers up your back, sending shivers up to your neck. You sighed into Dean's kiss, pressing your body to his. 

This spurred him on, spinning you around, pushing you towards the motel bed. You feel the mattress against your calves, and slowly you sink down as Dean continued cradling your cheek, swirling his tongue deeper into your mouth. 

You feel his weight settle on the bed, leaning over you. You move your fingers to his tie, trying to get it undone. The whiskey made your fingers feel like jello. "Fuck," you swear, breaking off the kiss. 

Dean pulls back, he blinks, eyes searching your face. "This isn't a good idea....." 

You grab his arm and wrap your right leg around him, throwing him over onto his back. You straddle his hips and you pin his wrists above his head. "I think it's a great idea." 

Your lips capture his, and you force your tongue into his mouth. The hunter moans as you grind your hips down onto him, feeling him lengthen through your thin bottoms. 

You pull off your tshirt before moving down the hunters long, bowed legs to get his pants off. You pull them down his legs, taking his boxers with them. You move up to tease his already glistening cock with your tongue, moaning at the salty taste of his pre cum. You suck him in, hollowing your cheeks. 

Dean moans, his hands move to your shoulders pulling you away from him. He spins you so your back is against the cheap mattress. He moans as he dives to your breasts, his teeth lazily grazing over one nipple, then the other. Your back arches at the sensation, pushing your hard buds deeper into his mouth. His tongue starts making the trail down your stomach, his hands grabbing your underwear, pulling them off. 

Dean was now above you, bearing his weight in his muscular forearms. His forest green eyes bore into yours, searching. His hand moves softly to your hair, bringing his lips to yours. 

You moan. "Dean....." your hips grinding, your core searching for him. 

While his tongue searches your mouth, tasting all you had to give, Dean settles between your legs. Your breath hitches, feeling his hard cock press against you. 

You move your legs to accommodate him, needing him to speed it up. You needed his his hard length inside you. 

Dean's swollen head is pressed against your sopping entrance, his eyes searching your face again. You fist his hair, pulling him down for a deep kiss. "Now," you growl.

This was all it took for him to take that first thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Your hips met him, thrust for thrust, spurred on by his wandering hands and mouth. it felt like he wanted all of you surrounding him. liLke he needed to touch every crevice, curve, and dip of your body. 

He starts deepening his thrusts, barely pulling out. His pelvis grinds against your throbbing clit. You were so close, you felt your orgasm start to edge. Dean grabs your throat, moving his fingers to your jaw. His eyes met yours again, as you twitch around him he attacks your mouth, drawing out a moan. You fall over the precipice, grunting out the hunter's name. Your orgasm racks your body, your hands gripping Dean's muscular shoulders in an attempt to not fall too far, or fly too high. 

Dean thrusts into you, his cock swelling. 

"Fuck, Winchester, " you pant, your orgasm still running through you. "Fucking cum in me now." 

Dean obeys, his hips stuttering. His cock rams into you a few more times and then he explodes. His cum coating your walls, causing you to fall into another orgasm. 

Your breasts heave with every breath you take. Your hands slowly relax their grip from Dean's shoulders. His head was resting on your shoulder, his cock slowly softening inside you. 

Dean sighs, rolling himself off of you, onto his back. 

You turn your head to face him. "Yeah, that was totally not a great idea...." you smirk.


End file.
